


Strays

by AliaMael



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 07:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30035052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliaMael/pseuds/AliaMael
Summary: Ken can't help his instinct to adopt strays. He knows that the more feral are sometimes the more vulnerable.He's still not quite ready for a being that otherworldly.(Or maybe he's in fact perfectly ready.)
Relationships: Doi Ken & Minamimoto Sho
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	Strays

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kusuriurikun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kusuriurikun/gifts).



> Happy pi day! ♥

Ken has always been in the habit of picking up strays. He has fed more cats than he could count, a handful of dogs, and even if he could never be sure he suspects he kept one or two kids from starving.

It's tradition by now to check on the local cats after closing his shop. Today is not different on that aspect. What _is_ different is the fact that three of the more adventurous from the bunch are gathered behind a dumpster, staring at what appears to be empty space. One of them is even pawing at it like it would at something or someone it wants to play with.

Ken stares, confused. Cats tend to do weird things, that much is true, but for three of them to suddenly adopt the exact same behavior? He feels he's missing something.

He looks down at the cat that came to him and for an instant, it's there, in the corner of his vision, a blurry image deformed by parasites and static. He blinks, but impossible to get it back, no matter where he focuses his eyes.

He knows what he saw, though. It was definitely a humanoid silhouette, sitting against the wall.

He could be creeped out. Probably should. He just saw a ghost, or a spirit. But then, some spirits would be offended by fear, while others would relish in it, so at this point there is no perfect answer.

"Good evening," Ken says to the not-really-empty space.

For a few seconds, nothing happens, then the cats jump back and for the briefest of moments Ken can actually _see_ a young man dressed in black, hands covering his ears, before he gets all… distorted like a drawing you'd try to twist, and Ken has the distant feeling of something _dropping_ , and then the place looks empty again.

The cats are all bundled against Ken's legs.

Animals have good instincts, and the fact that they went from curious or even playful to visibly frightened is a hint Ken can see plain as day.

Thing is, he _also_ has good instincts, and they're screaming at him that whatever it is, the entity in front of him is a stray in need of adopting.

He crouches to pet the cats, not looking directly at where the entity is but keeping the place in his peripheral vision. He waits, knowing from years, decades of experience that letting spooked beings set the rhythm is the way to go. And sure enough, a few minutes later darkness seems to condense into a shape.

"What do you want?" a scratchy voice asks, barely understandable like a radio signal on the verge of being lost.

Ken doesn't move, doesn't look up. Keeps petting the cats.

"To welcome you here," he answer calmly, softly.

The crackling sound that follows is possibly a laugh.

"You have no power over me," the entity says. " _No one_ –"

The voice disappears as Ken sees the black mass dissolve into thin air.

"I don't pretend to have any power," Ken says. "But I live on that street, so it seemed respectful to welcome you."

Suddenly, _something_ is gripping him, pushing him on his back.

" _You don't want me here_ ," screeches a black/grey/ _otherworldly_ creature, flickering in and out of existence, staring at Ken with glowing yellow eyes turning dark brown turning _nothing_ , and it feels like his skin is peeling away where it's touching him, and suddenly it releases him and flees.

Ken stays on the ground, a bit stunned, waiting for his head to stop spinning.

After a while, the cats start to meow at him and he gathers himself, wondering if he made the right call.

The next day, nothing is out of the ordinary.

Another day, and still nothing.

Ken is starting to wonder if he hallucinated the whole encounter.

On the fourth day, a young man enters the shop a bit more than three minutes before closing time. Everything about his attitude screams "feral" to Ken's instincts, so he lets him come to the counter in silence, avoiding to stare directly even if he cannot help but be… curious.

Ken is not even sure his visitor is an adult. If he is, it's just barely. His hair is in disarray; the holes in his pants are probably of the fashionable kind but what's left of his shirt genuinely looks like it _survived a fire_. He shows a lot of skin, but more than half of it is blackened by ink –at least, Ken hopes it's ink and not burn marks.

Then he's standing before the counter, Ken finally turns his eyes toward him and–

"Welco…"

– the usual salutation dies on Ken's lips because these eyes he last saw behind the dumpster, flickering between colors even if they now seem firmly set on an almost black brown.

Ken _sees_ that the entity understood he recognized him. He manages to look even more defensive than before.

"Welcome," Ken finally says. "Can I get you something?"

The man/entity seems surprised, borderline shocked.

"That's all you have to say?" he asks. "I saw you do the math."

Ken slowly nods.

"… shoyu ramen," the man eventually orders.

Ken sets up to prepare the meal. His visitor turned client takes a sit in a corner, looking around him like he's waiting for the room to become a battlefield and already preparing several ways out. Ken takes his time. When it's ready, he brings the bowl to his client, who looks slightly weirded out.

Ken can't help but wonder if the young man thought his order was going to be ignored, or that Ken was going to serve him subpar ramen, or even poison.

He's saddened by that, but also comforted in his opinion that whatever he his, this man needs a safe place and, if he allows it, a little bit of help.

When he goes to the door to turn the sign to "closed", Ken can feel the eyes on his back. He doesn't let it bother him and starts his evening routine of cleaning and tidying.

The young man follows all his moves, alternating between forgetting to eat and devouring his meal like he's been starving for days. The only thing keeping Ken from proposing him a refill is that he looks ready to bolt at the slightest provocation. Which is exactly why Ken would like him to be able to relax. Not that it seems to work for now, but Ken is patient. If he has to clean the place within an inch of its life to give his guest more time, so be it.

Then there's a scratch against the door, followed by an angry meow. Ken rolls his eyes, but he smiles. Of course the cats would be used to him getting out earlier, and of course at least one of them would come to openly protest.

The cat insists, so Ken goes to get the door. The cat darts inside, looking everywhere with curious eyes, until it sees the young man. They stare at each other for a while, then the cat approach him cautiously. It sits at the man's feet.

"… this is all _your_ fault," he grumbles at the cat.

Not deterred, the cat jumps on his lap. The young man freezes, hands hovering but not daring to touch. The cat headbutts his arm and slowly, careful as if the animal was the most fragile thing in the world, the young man tentatively pets it.

The cat purrs, satisfied. Ken shakes himself out of his staring. Seeing the naked fear of hurting the animal in his visitor's eyes has been heartbreaking, but also solidifies Ken's conviction that he wants to help him. And for that, he needs to actively work on _not spooking him_ , which includes stopping looking at him with such focus.

Slowly, the tables go from _clean_ to _perfectly spotless_ and the young man relaxes, his fingers running through the cat's fur. He seems almost peaceful. Ken hates that it's bound to end sooner or later, but hopes that it will come back to him more easily the next time.

At that point, Ken is convinced there _will_ be another visit.

When two other cats come investigate what's making him run late, Ken gives in to the inevitable and stops tidying what's already tidy to grab the cat food instead. Instantly, the cat that was blissfully purring on his visitor's lap jumps down to come to Ken to beg. The young man's hand stay in the air for a moment. He looks a bit betrayed.

"He'll come back after eating," Ken tells him, aiming for reassuring.

The man just clenches his jaw without answering. His hand drops to his lap, lifeless.

"Do you want to come feed them with me?" Ken offers.

It earns him a vague chuckle, but still no clear answer. Ken opens the door nonetheless; the young man gets up. Ken waits for him in the street. The man hesitates a few seconds just before the threshold, then gives Ken a smile that is more _snarl_ and steps forward.

He dissolves into nothing as soon as he's outside, leaving Ken alone with the cats.

It takes him two days to come back.

Ken is not surprised to see him entering the shop only when there is no customer left. His eyes dart around nervously, his hands clenching and unclenching on his crossed arms.

"Welcome back," Ken gently says. "What will it be today?"

There's a silence before the man answer.

"Shoyu ramen," he says, before immediately flinching.

Ken freezes for one second. His visitor's voice is _raw_ in a way that doesn't evoke anything positive. It must hurt to speak like that.

Ken prepares the meal, making sure to give him that one bowl that's subtly larger than the others, filled to the brim. The man eats without a word, tense. Ken cleans. The cat comes back.

When Ken goes out to feed the cats, his visitor hesitates again in front of the door. He slowly lifts a hand. As soon as it passes the invisible border between _inside_ and _outside_ it starts to distort, color fading to greyscale and lines glitching. The young man hisses like a wounded animal, but before Ken can offer him to stay inside he rushes out, half shouldering his way past Ken and half phasing out _through_ him, before finally disappearing a few meters farther.

It takes a chorus of meows to shake Ken out of his paralysis. He has no clue what makes his place special, but it's obviously some kind of sanctuary for his otherworldly visitor, and not only because he can get food without being disturbed.

Ken wishes he hadn't chased the man away for tonight.

But the man comes back the day after that, looking marginally less jumpy. Ken just asks him if he wants the usual, allowing him to nod his answer without speaking out loud.

It becomes their routine.

After weeks of this, the silence becomes comfortable. Ken offered his visitor to stay once, got a wary glare thrown his way, and didn't insist. Some times, leaving the shop doesn't seem to affect the man at all; some times he disappears on the spot. The worst times are when he does neither of these.

Then one day, Ken arrives in the morning to open Ramen Don, and when he reaches out to unlock the door his hand goes through _something_ and it feels like being shredded and burnt and electrocuted–

He jumps back, swearing, cradles his hand to his chest, but it is whole, without a trace of what happened save for a faint residual tingling. He stares at the door. Something invisible moves then, and Ken shouldn't be able to tell but he can _perceive_ it somehow.

He has an idea of what –who– he just got his hand in, and he doesn't like it.

He takes a steadying breath and finally opens the door, not surprised to find there isn't anything in his way anymore. But as soon as he pushes it, the unseen presence rushes forward and coalescence into the shape of his usual visitor, down on all four just inside the shop, shaking violently and visibly fighting to get his breathing back under control.

Ken kneels next to him, worried. The young man is paler than usual, but doesn't seem wounded –which only means that whatever affects him is something Ken can do nothing about.

"Do you want help to get to a seat?" Ken offers.

The man shakes his head, eyes firmly closed. Ken feels terribly powerless.

He makes sure no one can see them from the street, door closed anew, and sits next to his visitor. After a while, the young man's shaking evens out, then stops. He finally relaxes and practically melts into a sprawl on the floor.

"Yes," he mumbles.

It takes Ken a few seconds to remember what had been his last question. He helps the man to his feet and finds himself supporting most of his weight. He manages to bring him to the closest chair; the man sinks into it, head lolling back, exposing his neck. Ken is taken aback by how _vulnerable_ this position leaves him.

This is a display of trust Ken didn't expect.

He makes tea.

He places a cup in front of his visitor who blinks his eyes open before staring, confused. Ken sits on the other side of the table and sips from his own cup. Eventually the young man gingerly grabs his tea.

"I don't get your equation," he says.

Ken hasn't heard him speak a full sentence in _weeks_ , and the sheer surprise makes him slower to process that he has no clue what the man means. It must show on his face because the man tsks and starts drumming a nervous pattern on the tabletop with the fingers of his left hand.

"This is your domain of definition," the mans goes on, "and you're welcoming a wildly out of bounds function like _me_ in it. It's not… rational."

Ken can't say that he understands perfectly, but he gets the idea.

"You look like you could use a safe place," he says, "and you've never been aggressive toward me. I have no reason not to welcome you."  
"You know what I am," the man counters, as if he was genuinely sure that was reason enough.  
"I won't pretend I really know, no," Ken answers, "but what I saw doesn't change my mind."

The man stares, then smirks.

"You're zetta weird."

Ken shrugs. The man eventually turns his attention to his tea. He seems impressively recovered given the state in which Ken has found him in front of his door. Ken hesitates, but it's the more talkative the man has ever been, so he takes his chance.

"Are you alright?" Ken asks.

The man cocks his head.

"Yeah."

It sounds final, like the discussion reached its end. Ken can accept that. He made his position clear, and trusts the man to tell the truth about his well-being.

He finishes his tea and goes to prepare the shop for opening. When he reaches for the sign on the door, ready to turn it from "closed" to "open", he hears the young man getting up. He turns to him.

"You can stay," Ken says.

The man chortles.

"If you want me to frighten away your customers, sure."

Ken raises an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't," he says.

The man spreads his arms, as if to say "did you see me?".

"If you're trying to imply your appearance would scare people," Ken goes on, "I beg to differ. I fully believe you _could_ be utterly scary, but not without trying for it."

He can see the man hesitates. He's tempted to stay, it's obvious, and given how he always seems to be physically OK when he's inside Ken can understand why.

"You hurt, outside," Ken points out softly.

The man tenses, but doesn't deny.

"I need to learn to control it," he says instead.  
"Risking your health?"

The man sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

"I can't live in here," he points out.  
"You could," Ken counters.

The man stares, shocked, before shaking his head.

"I can't," he repeats.

Ken can't force him, so he lets him leave, watching him disappear in the morning crowd.

He comes back in the evening at his usual hour, though. He looks tired but overall alright. He also has acquired a feline shadow, who jumps on his lap as soon as he sits down.

"You've been adopted," Ken comments with a smile, giving him his usual bowl of ramen.

The man rolls his eyes.

"Arya's been following me for _days_ ," he says, tone somewhere between complaint and reluctant fondness.  
"Arya?"  
"Aryabhata. I named him," the man says as if daring him to contest.

The cat looks up at his name. The man pets him.

"The cats _see_ you," Ken remembers. "I mean, even when you're… well, when _I_ can't."  
"Mhm. Dunno why. I don't have a model for cats yet."  
"Pretty sure it's cats' thing to defy expectations, anyway," Ken smiles.

The man pouts.

"Everything is modellable," he grumbles.

And as if to prove his point, he pulls a sheet of paper covered in tiny scribbles out of his pocket and places it on the table to glare at it. Ken _thinks_ at least some of it is math, but there are complicated symbols everywhere and some places have been written over several times. It's basically illegible, but the man seems to get it anyway.

Ken can recognize that this is the end of tonight's discussion, so he leaves the young man to his meal and reflection.

There's no repeat of the morning incident (fortunately). On the other hand, the wall of silence between Ken and his visitor seems to be broken down, even if the young man still doesn't talk much. He starts bringing books and notebooks, apparently working on some obscure mathematical concept.

Ken knows not to disturb him when he's focused, but it doesn't stop Aryabhata. It's obvious that the man is boundlessly fond of the cat in the way he allows the animal to steal his pen even when he's trying to use it. (Sometimes, Ken takes upon himself to distract Aryabhata so the man can get his pen back. The man seems stuck between confused and grateful.)

One evening like any other, the young man randomly stops chewing on the end of his pen to glance at Ken.

"Your place is not special."  
"It isn't?"

Ken finds it difficult to believe. Even if he has no clue _why_ a banal ramen shop would be special, there is obviously something making it… anchoring, maybe, for his visitor.

"It belongs to a very specific subset of Shibuya," the young man amends, "It's a finite set, but your place is not its only element. It's just…"

He trails off. Ken isn't sure if he should push or not.

"My coordinates… on a specific axis, they should be discrete."

The man must see that he lost Ken, because he adds:

"I should be _here_ , or _there_ ," gesturing with his hands to underline his point. "And instead I'm…"

His hands paint a vague wave between the two positions he previously marked.

"All over the place," Ken finishes. " _Between_ the places?"  
"Yeah, in-between, or both at once… Or even farther... Not _always_ , but too often. And your place, it's firmly _here_. It's impossible to slip inside of the shop."

Ken blinks, takes his time to go over what he just heard.

"So what you're saying is that… my shop just happens to be one of the few places in Shibuya where you're stuck in the _here_ , which is good for you because your control is… dubious?"  
"I was a local maximum, you know," the young man says, looking down at the tabletop. "So close to becoming the global maximum. But I miscalculated. I…" He gulps. "I seriously fucked up," he concludes.

His fists are clenched, his whole body tense, but his voice is too small. Given the topic they're discussing, Ken can only be painfully aware of how _not human_ the young man is, but he still feels the fierce urge to try and protect him.

"It is fixable, right?" Ken asks softly.

The man hesitates, then nods.

"It should be…"  
"You're the one who said that everything is modellable," Ken points out gently. "I fully believe in your ability to find a way."

The young man stares, frozen.

"You… believe in me," he slowly says.  
"I do," Ken confirms.  
"… zetta weird," the man mutters, looking down at his notepad.

He's blushing, though. Ken is saddened by the fact his visitor doesn't seem to have anyone supporting him. Well, save for him, now.

After a bit of fidgeting with his pen, the young man goes back to writing, so Ken leaves him be.

Later, when Ken steps outside and waits for the young man to follow, like he does everyday, the young man stops just inside the shop, arms crossed, not looking at Ken.

"My name…" he says, "it's Sho."

Ken smiles.

"I'm Ken. See you tomorrow?"  
" _Heh._ You know it."

For a brief instant, Sho looks at Ken, gratitude in his eyes, then he steps forward and disappears.

Ken goes to feed the cats.


End file.
